When I was a little girl, I had a pair of high heels, that belonged to my great grandmother, and then my grandma, and then my mother, and then to me. They are quite the beautiful shoe, 3 inch heel, solid black, velvety, and pristine in condition. They were worth a solid hundred dollars or more when they were purchased and had accumulated much more worth throughout the years. In their day they had been worn to parties, social events, funerals, and graduations. While cleaning out my closet one day I came across them and as I touched the heel of the shoe, was reminded of all my days running around and pretending to be Cinderella. Running down the stairs, losing my slipper, and then awaiting Prince Charming in the comfort of our Lazy-Boy.
I began to remember how I used to believe in fairy tales? That fantasy of what my life would be, white dress, Prince Charming who would carry me away to a castle on a hill. I'd lie in bed at night and close my eyes, and I had complete and utter faith. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Prince Charming, they were so close, I could taste them. But eventually, I grew-up. One day, I woke up, opened my eyes, and the fairy tale disappeared. Most people turn to the things and people they can trust. But the thing is, its hard to let go of that fairy tale completely, because almost everyone still has that smallest bit of hope, of faith, that one day they'll open their eyes and it will all come true.
No comments:
Post a Comment